


keeping watch so i can rest

by originalgay1895



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Age Play, Castiel is Older Than Dean Winchester, Consent Issues, Daddy Kink, Dean is above the age of consent, Happier Than It Sounds, High School Student Dean Winchester, I promise, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kinda Dub Con? Consent issues with a school social worker, Kinda?, M/M, Psychologist Castiel (Supernatural), School Social Worker Castiel, Social Worker Castiel (Supernatural), Student Dean Winchester, Therapist Castiel (Supernatural), but he's still a high school student, they like to color :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 18:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalgay1895/pseuds/originalgay1895
Summary: “Well,” Cas starts, thoughtfully, “I’m glad I can help you like this, even if just for a while.”Dean ducks his head to hide the blossoming grin appearing on his face. He picks his blue coloured pencil back up and continues to fill in the lines.//Or the one in which School Social Worker Castiel gets way more than he bargained for when he can't help but get attached to his new charge: Dean Winchester.





	1. chapter one

It's not that Dean doesn't have anyone -- he does. He has Bobby and... Well, he has people. Okay? He's popular in school. He has his little brother, even if he really is more a responsibility than a friend. But, he has people. It's not like he's some loser loner. He makes sure to tell Mr. Novak all this. He doesn't want the guy to get the wrong idea. 

"I'm not here to judge you, Dean." He tells him, so earnest. 

"Well, dude, it's a little hard to believe that," Dean grumbles. 

"Why?" Mr. Novak asks him, honestly curious. 

"Really?" He huffs. Mr. Novak just keeps looking at him though. Staring at him, really, like he's trying to see straight into his soul -- or some shit like that. "Dude, you're a shrink." 

"Although I am indeed the school counselor, I hope you know that this is an open and safe space. I'm here to listen. Whatever you want to tell me, I will listen."

"They think I'm crazy, man!" Dean cries, "they're sending me to a frickin' shrink." 

"Dean," Mr. Novak mutters, softly, "no one thinks you’re crazy. Your teachers care about you. They want to see you succeed. Everything you say stays between us." Mr. Novak pauses, "well, unless it's something that I'm legally obligated to report." 

"Like what?" Dean asks suspiciously. 

"Any type of abuse." Mr. Novak responds, "or if you tell me you're a threat to yourself or others, then I'm also obligated to report that." 

"Well, I'm not."

"I didn't think you were," Mr. Novak smiles gently, "but, if you were, I want you to know that you could tell me." 

"Right," Dean scoffs. "Because you're _'not here to judge me',_" he mocks. 

"Precisely." Mr. Novak smiles, apparently not noticing the mocking tone. 

Dean stares at him in disbelief. 

"What would you like to talk about today, Dean?" Mr. Novak asks.

"Uhh," Dean squints at him, "nothing?" 

"We don't have to talk if you don't want to." Mr. Novak tells him. 

"Uhh... So I can go?" Dean asks, expectant. He raises his eyebrows and tenses his legs, reading to bolt out of there as soon as he gets the go-ahead. 

"Well, we still have 25 minutes left," Castiel tells him. He stands up, moving toward the tall cabinet against the far wall. 

"So, we just gonna sit here in silence for 25 minutes?" He watches as Mr. Novak opens the door and takes out a board game. The bright colored wording on the box declares it to be _Sorry. _

"I thought we could play _Sorry,_" Mr. Novak carries it back over to the table and sets it down. He starts diligently setting the game up. 

"You're serious?" 

Mr. Novak blinks at him in surprise, like he's the one acting weird. Dean barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. 

"Well, yes," Mr. Novak says, hesitating, "is that okay?" He turns in his chair, looking like he's about to get back up. "We can play a different game if you'd like, it's just, well, _Sorry _is my favorite game, that's all." 

"No, no," Dean gives a small smile, as he puts his hand up to stop Mr. Novak from getting up. "_Sorry _is good, Mr. Novak." 

"Are you sure?" Mr. Novak asks, half standing, looking at him like his opinion is the most important thing in the world. 

"Yeah, 'course." Dean smiles again, reassuringly. "I like _Sorry, _Mr. Novak." 

"Okay," Mr. Novak says, smiling again. He goes back to setting up the game. "What color do you want to be?"

"Blue is good." 

"Okay, then I'll take green." He looks up at Dean, his blue eyes wide, "and Dean," he says, serious, "it's Castiel."

"What?"

"Castiel." He repeats. "It's my name; call me Castiel."

"Yeah, sure thing.”

And that’s how it starts, he supposes. This little game of theirs. He has people, truly, he does, but other people don’t compare to the undivided attention that Mr. Novak freely gives. He gives and gives and gives, without a thought, in fact, Dean doesn’t even have to ask for attention, to ask for compassion, Mr. Novak just gives it. He looks at Dean like he’s something special, like he's worth something. He doesn't seem to realize how much of a fuck-up Dean is. He knows he should tell him, that he shouldn’t take advantage of Mr. Novak’s ignorance, but the feeling of someone looking at you like you're something righteous? Well, that feeling is too addicting to pass up. Better than any drug on the market. 


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about how long this took me to update. My classes really killed me this term. I also started a new job (yikes). I'll probably be apologising for how long it takes me to upload every time lmao. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Dean, despite his protests, keeps meeting with Cas. It’s not really his decision, he’s kinda forced to. He doesn't really put up that big of a protest, just makes sure Cas knows he’s not very satisfied with the situation, but that’s beside the point. He doesn’t tell anyone about his meeting with the school social worker, though. Doesn’t want anyone to know that his teachers thought he was looney enough to see a freaking shrink. Cas says he’s not looney and that his teachers just thought he’d like some more support, but Dean is not an idiot. He’s a lot of things, certainly, but stupid has never been one of them. 

Of course he wasn’t stupid. He’s been taking care of Sam practically his whole life. He goes to school full time, works a part-time job at Bobby’s shop, and when John doesn’t leave them enough cash and the money from Dean’s job isn’t enough to cover the gap, he still manages to get food on the table for Sammy, because Sammy shouldn’t have to worry about where his next meal is gonna come from. Sammy is the well-adjusted genius of the family, and Dean would do anything to make sure he gets the chance to succeed; which is exactly what he deserves. Dean isn't in the amount of denial it would take to convince himself he’s stupid, obviously he’s not, a stupid person would not be capable of the things he has done and continues to do. So, basically, what it boils down to is that his teachers think he’s lost his marbles. Which, he would like the record to show, he absolutely has not. 

He only mentions this once to Cas, because only crazy people keep insisting they’re not crazy… Or at least that what Dean’s learned from television. 

The meetings are mostly consistent in their content. Dean doesn’t say much, Cas doesn’t push too much, but stays open and earnest, and reminds Dean that if he ever wants to talk, he’s more than welcome to, then they’ll play some type of board game or card game in silence. 

Keyword being _mostly_, because today it seems that Dean has reached some kind of breaking point in his stubborn silence. Not on purpose, mind you, because never in his life had he planned on ever admitting that he “resented his dad, sometimes”. At least he never planned on admitting it to anyone but himself. He was the dutiful son, the perfect soldier, whatever his dad needed him to be. Perfect sons didn’t complain. 

So, after his unexpected outburst, he stares at Cas, waiting for a reply, because he sure as hell didn't know where to go from here. They hadn’t even made it to the board game yet. Dean had just walked into Cas’ office, plopped down on the chair and blurted it out. 

Jesus. 

Cas just stares at him, his face shows the surprise that Dean was expecting, but he recovers quickly, his lips quirking up and his eyebrows rising. “It’s okay to resent your dad,” he says.

Dean pretends that’s not the most perfect thing he's ever had anyone tell him. He just stares at the tabletop, his cheeks on fire.

“Is there a reason that you're feeling that way?”

“He’s a good dad. He’s doing his best.” Dean responds, even though that’s not what Cas asked. He doesn't even know if he's trying to convince Cas or himself. 

Probably himself. 

“I’m sure he is, Dean”, Cas responds. It doesn’t sound condescending, it doesn’t sound like anything but the truth. “If you don’t want to discuss it anymore, I’m not going to push you.” 

Maybe it’s that small comfort, that Cas isn’t gonna force him to talk. Or maybe it’s just the way Cas is looking at him that makes him want to continue. “I never really got a chance to be a kid, I guess.”

As soon as it’s out of his mouth he wants to grab the words and force them back in. He wants to swallow them down until they will never see the light of day. He sounds like a whiny kid. Like he’s complaining about his dad. He’s not. He knows it could be way worse. He _sees_ how it could be way worse. He’s lucky his dad at least cared enough to keep them instead of sending them away to some home. The fact that sometimes he wonders if that would have been better will never be talked about. It doesn’t matter how blue and trustful Cas’ eyes are, Dean would never betray his dad by verbalising those thoughts. 

“That’s not fair for you,” Cas says, like Dean is actually _owed _something. 

“No, it’s fine,” Dean says, hastily. 

“it’s not fine, Dean. It might be what it is, it might not be something you can fix, but that doesn’t make it ‘fine’.” Cas corrects, his eyebrows furrowed; worried. 

“Okay.” Dean agrees, eager to put this behind them. He glances at the clock on the wall, his leg bouncing up and down. 

“I’m making you uncomfortable,” Castiel states, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s..” Dean sighs softly, “it’s fine.”

“Dean, I’m clearly making you uncomfortable, and I’d like to apologise for that. This is supposed to be a safe space, not somewhere you feel forced to talk.”

Dean stares at Cas, and what he thinks is ‘I can’t believe that you’re real. I can’t believe that someone as kind and caring as you exists on this earth. It's incomprehensible to me that the world hasn’t chewed you up and spit you out and taken everything that makes you _you _with it.’ What he says instead is, “don’t worry about it, Mr. Novak.”

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH! I'm so excited to write this. I'm working on more, but my updates are going to be sporadic due to my uni classes. I really hoped you enjoyed it and if you read other works by me, don't worry, because I will continue working on those as well. My Tumblr is the same as it is on here, in case you want to follow me.


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